


Fathers and Sons

by WeaglesAndBrobeans



Series: ghost stories [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Neglect, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Luke is a good friend, Reggie's Dad Sucks, good dad ray, sad and yet somehow sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27214738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeaglesAndBrobeans/pseuds/WeaglesAndBrobeans
Summary: A spark of hope lit in his chest though. “Could you help me?”His dad squinted down at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. “You wanna learn to be a man you gotta figure that shit out for yourself.”The hope burst into disappointment. It always did.
Series: ghost stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986880
Comments: 7
Kudos: 192





	Fathers and Sons

**Author's Note:**

> I saw Jeremy being a good little house husband this weekend on Instagram and unfortunately it led to the brain child of Reggie maybe perhaps wanting to learn from Ray the things his dad wouldn't have taken the time to teach him.

Reggie sat, lip bit between his teeth, as he tried to focus. His little hands wielded the hammer and nail awkwardly, nail slipping again and again. He would get this though. He was determined.

Mrs. Tanner, his second grade science teacher gave the class a project to make something that would help the environment. Reggie had shyly approached her with his crayon drawn plan to build a bird house to feed the blue jays by his house and she had beamed down at him. A very good idea, she’d enthused. Reggie loved Mrs. Tanner and wanted to make her proud.

What he hadn’t expected was it to be so hard. Every time he managed to get the wood he’d found in a back alley set just right and the nail somewhat sturdy against it, everything would slip when he raised up the hammer or took a swing.

Reggie let out a howl as this time, the hammer struck his thumb. Tears welled up in his wide brown eyes and he dropped the hammer in frustration and dismay. This wasn’t working.

“Are you crying boy?” a growl interrupted the child’s moment of self-pity. “No fucking kid of mine is gonna be a pansy. I knew that mom of yours was coddling you!”

The tall brunette marched into the small laundry room where Reggie had been tucked away to attempt his project.

“What the fuck are you doing anyways? Is that my hammer?”

Reggie paled, he hadn’t thought his dad would be home this early. He knew better than to touch any of his dad’s belongings when the man was around to catch him.

“I just um. It’s for school,” Reggie stammered out, gesturing helplessly at the pile of scraps and tools. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. A spark of hope lit in his chest though. “Could you help me?”

His dad squinted down at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. “You wanna learn to be a man you gotta figure that shit out for yourself.”

The hope burst into disappointment. It always did.

Left to his own devices, Reggie fiddled and failed again and again until he threw down the wood and pulled at his hair. This time he made sure to keep his tears silent.

The next morning Reggie reached up into the fridge only to find the milk carton was basically empty. As he sat munching on dry cereal, a thought struck his mind. Pulling out the rectangle cardboard container, he shoved it in his backpack.

When the projects were due, Reggie proudly handed in his birdhouse. He’d cut a crude hole in the front of the carton and colored it to look like a house. “I see you recycled as well Reggie. Well done.”

He may not have figured out the tools, but he’d made Mrs. Tanner proud.

“Carlos come here,” beckoned Ray. He stood in the warm LA sunshine, white t-shirt smudged with grease, as he reached in to the engine of his car. “So we have the pan ready to catch the oil, but before we pull the drain plug-,” he started before Carlos interrupted him.

“The what?” asked the boy as he peered down under the hood of the vehicle. Ray didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. He smiled warmly at his son.

“That’s the plug underneath that we will pull to let the old oil drain out,” he paused to look for recognition in Carlos’ face before carrying on. “So before we do that though, we’re going to unscrew the filler cap up here. Do you know why we would do that?”

Carlos scrunched up his face as he thought about it before shaking his head.

Reggie who stood on Ray’s other side, looked up at the man with wide, curious eyes. “No I don’t,” he answered. Ray wouldn’t hear him, but Reggie didn’t mind.

“You know when you pinch the top of a straw and you can hold water in it that way? It’s kind of like that. Taking the cap off will let the oil pour out smoother and faster.”

Reggie nodded, fully fascinated by the father-son lesson he was witnessing. “That makes sense.”

Later that afternoon as the three sat on the porch, two with iced cold lemonade in hand, Carlos turned to look up at his dad. “Why are you showing me all this car stuff when I’m not even gonna be able to drive for like five more years?”

Ray pulled the boy in to tussle his hair and press a kiss to his forehead. “Because if we start now, you’ll be confident when you finally go out on your own. I want to make sure you get every chance to learn from me so that you’ll be ready to face the world.”

The conversation, was sweet. Sweet and perfectly foreign. Reggie felt a lump form in his throat as he thought about his own father’s perspective on these things.

Reggie _poofed!_ to the Studio, needing to just get away for a moment. Flopping on the couch he threw his arm over his face and choked on tears. Images of his dad turning him down, ignoring him, belittling him, flooded his mind. “ _You wanna learn to be a man you gotta figure that shit out for yourself!”_

“Reg?”

The bassist startled at the appearance of his oldest friend. Moving to wipe at the tears on his cheeks which were now burning with humiliation, Reggie sat up and faced Luke.

“Sup!” the false cheer wavered as his voice cracked.

Luke’s frown deepened. “What’s going on Reggie?” Crawling onto the couch so he could cuddle up next to his friend, Luke’s eyes bored into Reggie as if he could somehow find the answers there. He didn’t rush a response, but pulled Reggie to his side and held him tight.

“I’m fine,” Reggie tried to brush off the concern. But as they sat quietly Luke stroked his cheek and Reggie’s façade cracked.

“I wish,” he began with a sniffle before trailing off and burying his face in hands.

“You wish what Reg?” prompted Luke softly.

Reggie’s reply was barely a whisper sneaking its way through his hands. “I shouldn’t say it.”

A cold hand reached under his hands, and prodded at his chin. Reggie allowed his hands to fall away and let his chin be guided by Luke’s fingers. Eye to eye, Reggie wanted to shrivel up. Luke’s eyes held an intensity. All the force they usually carried, but none of the glee. “You’re allowed to feel things. And want things. You’re allowed Reg,” he assured the boy in his arms.

The older could feel himself cracking apart at the tender care. His boys had always been there for him. And maybe that’s why he felt he couldn’t _really_ complain about his life. The band cared for him and protected him and gave him something to live for. Surely asking the universe for more, for better, was more than he deserved.

But Luke was waiting. So Reggie took a deep breath.

“I wish I had a dad like Ray.”

Luke’s eyes grew impossibly sadder.

“I wish mine didn’t treat me like shit and refuse to teach me anything. I wish he’d helped me with that stupid bird house. I wish he’d taken me fishing. I wish he’d have played catch with me. I wish he’d taught me to ride a bike. I wish he’d said just once that he was proud of me.”

By the end of his rant, his shoulders were heaving with his lungs, his hands were shaking, the lump in his throat had doubled, his eyes burned.

“Was I really such a waste of space? Such a disappointment?” voice turning sharp and anguished, Reggie looked over to Luke who shook his head vehemently.

“No,” the guitarist countered firmly. “You’re incredible Reggie. And you’re kind and you’re funny and you’re loyal. You’re so fucking loyal. And you’re not a disappointment!”

Luke had stood now, pacing as zeal for the defense of his friend burned through him. “Your dad was shit Reggie and it has literally nothing to do with you. Every space you’re in is better _because_ you’re in it.”

Crouching in front of the couch, Luke grabbed Reggie’s hands and peered up into his doubt-filled face. “I’m so glad you’re my friend Reg. I really am. And you know what? Maybe someday we’ll be able to tell Ray about us and I don’t know for sure, but something tells me he would love to build a birdhouse with you or even play catch.”

Reggie looked up with glassy eyes, “you think so?”

Luke smiled that slanted grin of his. “I know so.”


End file.
